


a change in thesis

by vistalune



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Confessions, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, KuroKen - Freeform, M/M, Mistletoe, Secret Santa, Slight pining, Snowmen, but barely, kenma hates christmas, kuroo loves christmas, like a lot, peppermint!, side bokuaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vistalune/pseuds/vistalune
Summary: falling in love was a lot like opening christmas presents.it was the anticipation, the surprise, the joy, the happiness, that came hidden behind something that which you’d never expect. it was waiting for something new to happen, or admiring the outside before diving past thin boundaries. it often came with a bow on top.and kenma thinks kuroo was not very far from a gift, anyway....or, kenma hates christmas almost as much as kuroo loved it.well, used to, anyway.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	a change in thesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subrosas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subrosas/gifts).



> hello!
> 
> so i was writing this but kinda came to a block about where i wanted it to go,,, but i think we did okay! this isn't my first holiday au but it is my first stand alone for haikyuu, so i hope everyone is in character and nothing is too tedious to read ;-;
> 
> i also wanted to make this short and fluffy but ended up listening to too much ricky montgomery and now it's 12k with some pining??¿¿??
> 
> ANYWAY please enjoy! and thank you for visiting me here today! <333

_hello!_

_really quick - this story is completely fictional and meant for entertainment purposes only!_

_everything is entirely made up, and the canon characters that mine are named after have nothing to do with how they really are. i wrote this solely for your enjoyment (hopefully!) and for me to have something to pass the time with._

_please have fun with this, and thank you for everything!_

_\- bette_

_p.s. to xena - i really hope you like this and that it doesn't disappoint! thank you for being moots with me and interacting with me! happy birthday, ilu!! <333_

~❆~

Kozume Kenma does not believe there is anything worse in the world than Christmas.

Christmas — the time of the year when vermillion ribbons would drape from ceilings like pageant banners, when pretty orange lanterns escaped from hopeful hands and speckled the sky like fireflies, when you showed your friends just how much you loved them by giving them gifts, when snow lined front lawns and clung to the shivering arms of bare branches – it was absolute hot garbage.

Babies wailing was a close second, amongst the many things that made Kenma want to drive his head through drywall, maybe a drop in a rollercoaster that lasted a little bit too long to where it felt like your stomach was in your throat, or getting sprayed with wet water when you’re perfectly warm.

But Christmas was a whole different ball game.

Kenma could write a ten-page, double-spaced, Times New Roman 12 point font thesis on exactly why it is the worst holiday ever thought of. 

His first point – and most dreadful of them all – would be the mistletoe. Everyone _expected_ people to kiss underneath it, to silently confess any bubbling feelings that you’d rather keep hidden. Feelings that you kept buried for so long, only for a jerk plant to give you away.

But what if you haven’t had your first kiss, yet, and you want it to be a little more special than giving it to some random stranger underneath some _random_ plant hanging above a door frame? There was no way to decline it, or else you would ruin the holiday spirit, big red letters above your head that read KILLJOY, no matter how many ways you tried to hide it from people.

What if you get caught under there with your arch-nemesis or something? 

And Kenma didn’t have any, but the thought still made his bones rattle.

His second point – there were foods and drinks that had _no business_ being peppermint flavored. He did not understand the cookies and coffee that were offered around Christmas, made specifically to taste like spice and ass on purpose. And for what? _Holiday cheer?_

He could throw up. 

On top of that, it got _way_ too cold, winter being summer’s twin sibling in seasons that just had to do the most with the weather in order to get their point across. There was the spending money that you didn’t have on people you tolerated, the bright fairy lights that hurt his eyes and seemed to set the city on fire, the Christmas tree. 

You get it.

All in all, Kenma hated Christmas.

So imagine how dissonant it was to be friends with someone who loved it almost as much as he couldn’t stand it.

Kuroo Tetsurou was Kenma’s only exception to the good things that come with Christmas, a bustling and tall boy that was sometimes clumsy when he spilled hot chocolate or flour everywhere, a walking sunrise of anything and everything that Kenma held dear to him. 

He was the only exception. Everything else was null.

Kuroo would show up on his doorstep a couple of days before, beaming, with messy black hair and a starlight smile Kenma swore he’d only see in his dreams, holding a bag of snacks and ingredients to make a mess of his kitchen by the time midnight rolled around. 

He would urge him to do something, _anything_ Christmas related, to put him in the _holiday spirit!_ And Kenma would let him drag him around the city, feeling warm despite the cold, cheeks blooming roses in the winter sun as Kuroo held his hand, or looked at him for too long while snow flurries around them, whispering of courage and closing gaps into his ear. 

On Christmas Eve, he would bring him to a party hosted by one of his many friends – because Kuroo’s personality was not that far from warm honey, and he was _that_ charismatic and got along with everyone like it was nothing – where Kenma would see both familiar faces and people he did not know, sticking beside Kuroo until he was set free.

It didn’t help that Kenma was kind of, sort of, _maybe_ on his way down for him already, had been for at least 7 Christmases, so saying no to him was never a viable option, but Kuroo didn’t need to know that and Kenma would rather keep it to himself. 

And he strictly forbade mistletoe around his apartment (much to Kuroo’s disappointment), because he would be _damned_ if he let it give him away, too.

Kenma tolerated Christmas, but only when Kuroo was a part of it. He would detest the holiday a million times over had Kuroo not been there as an emollient for him to fall back on and be _okay_ with it.

He was very much okay with spending it with him, despite not wanting to get out of bed and hoping the world would spontaneously fast-forward until the holiday season was over.

And he knew it was impossible, but he could dream, couldn't he?

~❆~

Here he was, sitting on his couch with a cup of coffee he made from the one Kuroo had gotten him for his birthday in his hands, a light toffee color because he couldn’t stand the bitterness that dark roasts brought, staring into his television as a cutscene played from his video game. He’d been thinking of the boy in question, his heart thumping just a _little_ too fast as the minutes slowly trickle away from him, anticipating Kuroo’s arrival and subtly checking the window for him, but not wanting to seem eager.

That was lame. And Kenma was not lame.

His body would give him away in no time, had anyone been there to see him, though. It was times like this when he was glad he lived alone.

He had suddenly lost his appetite for the coffee, hot stones sitting heavily in his gut as he thinks. 

Did he look okay, today? Would Kuroo notice the little cuts scabbing over on his fingers from modding his PC? What if Kuroo didn’t like the smell of the new color-hold shampoo he was using? It was strawberry scented (and Kenma did _not_ specifically pick it because Kuroo liked strawberries – it just seemed like a good option for him).

Kenma watches his thoughts splatter themselves on the television and swirl into his cup of coffee, the ghosts of his conscience humiliating him the more he let them run free, beginning to feel sick as they took over everything he set his sights on.

And this happened every year, yet, they seemed to grow more unmanageable as the time passed. 

Maybe it’s because Kenma spent every waking day with Kuroo anyway, and Christmas shouldn’t _feel_ different, but Kuroo once told him recently that he liked to spend the holidays with his favorite people closest to him and often split his time between Kenma and his roommate.

Kuroo put Christmas on a high, golden pedestal for the world to see, for the Milky Way and the astronauts on Mercury to _know_ he loved the holiday, and Kenma can’t believe he was one of the people up there with it.

His attention drifts, gliding through baking snowmen cookies and decorating them as prettily as possible to impress Kuroo even a little bit with baking skills he did not have. He thought about Kuroo in a beanie as a light dust of snow fell around them outside, his nose powdered with a delicate shade of scarlet from the cold as freckles littered the bridge like broken seashells that lined taupe shores. He thought of his lips, thought of running his thumb over them, satin rose petals beneath his touch.

The door rings and knocks Kenma out of his head so abruptly that he fucking spills his coffee all over his lap at the shock.

The burning was enough to bring him back down to earth, crashing nearly too hard against the asphalt, and also enough for him to swear loud enough for Kuroo to hear him through the door.

“Kenma? Are you okay?”

The air rushes out of his lungs at the concern that laces itself through Kuroo’s voice, loud and whole and summery, and Kenma can’t find it within himself to say _I spilled coffee all over myself because I was deep in thought visualizing what it’d be like to kiss you in the snow outside of my apartment and the sound of the doorbell scared the shit out of me._

So he lies instead, hoping Kuroo didn’t see through him.

“I-I am. Yes.” Kenma stands up, the sweet coffee twirling down his legs with a smirk before seeping into the carpet beneath his feet, calling to Kuroo. “Give me like...two sec—uh, minutes!”

Kenma runs into his bedroom and quickly peels off his sweatpants, brown coffee staining the grey material. He wipes his legs off with the dryer part of the pants and replaces them with black joggers, lowering the risk of staining had he spilled anything _else_ on them, tossing his sweatpants in the hamper beside his desk and rushing out of the room.

Of course, he slips in his socks because he was rushing, and groans as he gets up from the floor because _this is a disaster, the end of the world, maybe._

He tries to ignore the ache in his knees and makes it to the door, running a hand through his hair and hoping it was enough to make him not look like a hot mess from the events that spiraled out of control just a few seconds ago.

He opens the door for him, trying to slow his heart rate down before seeing him, only for it to spike up as Kuroo stands there, incandescence behind his eyes, crepuscular rays in his throat as he grinned at him.

Kenma liked to think Kuroo was like the universe in itself. 

Infinite and limitless, holding beautiful and delicate things like violet nebulas and alpenglow and auroras, as well as grey areas he hadn’t discovered yet, but had been so interested to explore, had he let him. He would smile like cerulean supernovas, while his mind held the stars, Rigel and Vega winking at Kenma whenever he felt himself float off. He had black hair like voids that fell into his eyes, and cheeks that sat above the moon when he smiled, making Kenma’s heart soar and plummet all the same.

He would give him the world if he could, and he was up on Venus, completely oblivious and making him crumble the more he controlled Kenma’s cosmos, the more he did things that made him drift, Moirai in the form of a walking enigma that grinned with too much truth to be so mystical.

He remembers watching the stars with him on his roof when they were kids, and since then, the nighttime had become one of Kenma’s favorite things, when he would watch constellations skip across a sky of black velvet, while the moon poured ivory into his chest.

Kenma spent a lot of time wandering Kuroo’s boundless spaces whenever they were together, where years replaced minutes and curiosity replaced hesitation, and his galaxy felt just as endless as he’d imagined. 

And then he thinks he romanticized Kuroo a little too much, but it was hard not to, considering he’d spent his whole life discovering little pieces of Kuroo’s universe, holding all of his comets and pulsars in his hands, ever since they were kids.

“—let me in...Kenma?”

Kenma hums, his eyes wide as Kuroo stares at him, a rubber band snap of focus yet again, and his lips stretch into a small, crescent moon smile. Kenma would have sworn it was one of awe, but...the only thing amazing about him was his inability to concentrate for more than six seconds at a time.

He was sure Kuroo knew that.

“Let me in, please. It’s cold as a bitch out here.” Kuroo says, holding a reusable blue grocery bag in his hand, the other stuffed in his jacket pocket, a red beanie fitted over his head.

His nose was very pink and Kenma’s heart skipped at the first hint of freckles darkening with the temperature as they kissed Kuroo’s honeyed skin, forming more constellations above his nose bridge for Kenma to look at before nightfall.

He steps back and curses himself for being so dumb.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Kuroo walks in, brazen with the stars above Mauna Kea on his trail, before Kenma shuts the door, staring into the specs of snow on the floor that had fallen from Kuroo’s boots. “Come in, Kuro.”

“Are you okay? You sounded like you were in pain just now.” Kuroo reaches behind himself and puffs up his chest into the air, stretching, after he toeing off his boots. “Did you fall?”

“I am okay.” Kenma says, letting his head hang, strands of hair falling into his face to hopefully hide his cheeks and embarrassment along with it. “Just spilled something.”

“I could help you clean it up?” Kuroo turns around immediately, tilting his head sweetly and it makes the butterflies bat against Kenma’s stomach, looking for a way out.

He liked how Kuroo was always ready to help him, no matter what it was. 

Loving him was so _easy._

“N-no, it’s okay. I got...I got it.” Kenma shakes his head, his heart heavy as it thrums in his throat. “It’s fine.”

“If you say so, Kenma.” Kuroo looks around, his brown eyes dimming by the second at the lack of holiday spirit in here, almost doe-like with how empty it was. “Where are your decorations?”

“Um...I didn’t put them up.”

Kuroo groans into the air, and it reverberates around the room like a B-string acoustic, slapping a hand over his heart and gripping his jacket as if he truly was in pain. _“Kyanma!_ You’re killing me. This is exactly what Santa would _not_ want for you. Am I friends with the Grinch? I cannot believe you.”

Kenma smiles at how silly Kuroo sounded, his antics making him maybe _want_ to put up decorations, just to hear him laugh or see him grin like he did when he first got here. 

Maybe.

“It’s not a big deal.” Kenma says, shrugging. “Just Christmas.”

“Just Christmas? Wow. Things like fairy lights and holiday music actually cause a spike in dopamine when you hear it, because nobody listens to them during the year, did you know that? The anticipation makes our brains happy.” Kenma blinks, and Kuroo squints his eyes at him, before shaking his head and making his way to the kitchen to set the grocery bag down. “Kenma, you are such a sourpuss.”

“I am not a sourpuss.” Kenma practically pouts, that word feeling so icky coming out of his mouth, and Kuroo would have cooed had he not been in such a good place to annoy him.

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“...Are too.”

“Am _not.”_

“Regardless!” Kuroo shouts with his finger in the air, as if just landed on a new idea that had been hooked on the tip of his tongue for a while. “It’s a good thing I entered you in Bo’s secret santa exchange!”

“You _what?!”_ Kenma’s eyes blow wide as he balks, the thought of getting a gift for a stranger who probably wouldn’t even like it made him fall ill. 

He needed a nap.

“I sure did! Bokuto is having a party after work on Christmas Eve, and I insisted we do it. We’ve never done it before, so it’s exciting! Everyone who is participating got to pick yesterday. I got your person right here.” Kuroo reaches into his jeans pocket, eyes rolling around on the ceiling as he feels around for the paper, before covering his eyes with his other hand and holding the slip out to Kenma. “I didn’t peek.”

Kenma sighs the rest of the air in his lungs out, already feeling achy from the stress, the crumpled slip of paper more unappealing as time passed. “Kuro, why would you do that?”

“To put you in the holiday spirit!” Kuroo radiates, his hand still over his eyes.

“We could have done anything else.” 

His smile turns into a pull of lips into a tight line. “That’s exactly what a sourpuss would say.”

Kenma sighs and takes the slip of paper from him quickly, slightly scrunched from his pocket, looking up at Kuroo. His hand was still over his eyes, waiting. Kenma sighs in defeat through his nose this time, unraveling it and seeing familiar handwriting scribbled across the paper, upside down.

He flips it, feeling anxious.

_Kuroo Tetsurou! \\(^-^)/_

Kenma’s eyes blow wide and he quickly shoves the paper into the pocket of his joggers, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach. 

Of course, he’d be the one to get Kuroo. His mind thinks that maybe Kuroo was controlling his world again, a rift in the continuum made specifically just so that Kenma could get him.

Then he thinks he’s being too dramatic.

They often got each other gifts every year, often things that they remembered each other always wanting. It was weird that he was now stressing out about what to get him.

Maybe it was the secrecy that was scaring him.

This was nothing new, except for the fact that there were limitations on both ends of the spectrum.

If he got him something he liked, or something that he told him about, Kuroo would know right away that it was him. If he got him something completely off, Kuroo would probably hate it, and Kenma doesn’t know how much that would impact his self-esteem for the rest of his life, but he knew it would be a lot.

It was definitely something to dread.

He sighs heavily again, his brain racking over each and every conversation they’ve had about their interests. Kenma could think of a million things to get him, yet came up short the more he tried to put some effort into it.

“You look tense. Maybe we should just stay in for today.” Kuroo says, and Kenma watches him take his beanie off after catching his eyes for a moment, putting it in the now empty grocery bag and ruffling the white bits of snow out of his hair. 

They fall into the bag and Kenma is reminded of snowglobes.

“We need a Christmas tree.” Kenma says, thinking that maybe, this outing would be a good way to see what he was interested in most recently. “We gotta get one. Let’s go.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows, seemingly impressed at Kenma’s sudden desire to do something related to the holidays, as he turns around and makes his way to his bedroom to find a coat, before he has a chance to change his mind.

“Okay, let’s go! I will wait for you to get dressed.” Kuroo smiles, the same one that liked to make Kenma’s heart trip over itself, before he quickly shuts the door behind him, the pressure of being Kuroo’s secret santa heavy on his shoulders as he thinks into the tile beneath his feet.

He could not believe this.

~❆~

Kenma did not have _any_ kind of luck in figuring out anything new about Kuroo.

The two of them have known each other since they were kids — when Kuroo first moved right next door to Kenma and his parents were excited about him finally having someone his age so close. Kenma never intended to be friends with him, often ignoring him within the first few days of seeing each other around the neighborhood, but Kuroo just kind of weaseled his way in, and stuck. 

Kenma didn’t mind making a space in his heart just for him, anyway.

Even so, there was nothing he didn’t already know about him.

He knew that Kuroo was majoring in business, and he _knew_ that he had an odd interest in obscure mangas that nobody ever would admit to reading _(because mainstream stuff has no charm!)._ He knew Kuroo liked the color red and liked volcanoes and purple hydrangeas because it reminded him of their hometown and the world’s ever increasing list of wonders. 

He would listen to him explain how volcanoes erupt and exactly why flowers get their pigments, and Kenma would put the world on pause just to hear him.

And even then, Kenma found nothing, despite spending what turned into hours in the city with Kuroo. He had a taste of peppermint on his tongue from him insisting Kenma share a special drink with him, and it was way too cold out here for anyone to be okay with.

Kenma was adding pages to his thesis as we speak.

He would have rather stayed in, as Kuroo suggested.

But they got a tree, so he guessed it was okay.

“What are you thinking about, Kenma?” Kuroo asks, reaching up to put the star on the very top of the tree, while Kenma stuck to the lower parts, hanging red ornaments on the fake branches, staring into the autumn fairy lights near the core.

They got an artificial one, because Kenma told Kuroo he would not sweep pine needles from the floor every day for a holiday that didn’t deserve that much effort. And he didn’t like the smell of pine unless it was in one of those air fresheners you’d hang from the rearview mirror.

Kuroo called him a sourpuss again.

“I am thinking of my secret santa.” Kenma says, his words hefty as he balances on a tightrope, knowing if he lost his footing, he’d give it away. He was trying to tread lightly. “I’m not sure what to get them.”

“Hm…” Kuroo steps behind Kenma as he adjusts the star above the tree, the faint aroma of peppermint coffee dancing through the air as it clung to Kuroo’s sweater and sat on the couch behind them. “Do you know them?”

Kenma blinks, and shakes his head, hooking a golden ornament onto a branch, his fingertips feeling numb, despite the heater being on. “Barely.”

“That is troublesome.” Kuroo tells him, standing behind him with his hands on his hips, thinking. “Just don’t overthink it.”

Kenma purses his lips. “I’m scared that they won’t like it.”

“Anything you get will be perfect.” Kuroo smiles softly, his voice gentle. “I’m sure they’ll love it, if it’s from you. Don’t stress, Kenma.”

Kenma knew he was just saying that, knowing he would change his statements had he known that he was the one Kenma was worried over. But he makes him feel a little better, a sparse, level-headed logic that reduces the ache in his lungs.

He takes a big breath that makes his ribs knock against his chest, and thinks.

“Plus, you have a few days before then. Let’s focus on making your apartment pretty for now.”

And Kenma thinks his apartment was most beautiful whenever Kuroo was in it, but he would never tell him that.

This felt so familiar and domestic — putting up Christmas decorations with Kuroo — that Kenma almost wished time would halt at a standstill for them to stay like this.

And it probably would, had they lived together.

Kenma always hated the thought of falling in love. 

It made him feel weird. Maybe it was because he was terrified of rejection, or felt he wasn’t up to par with most people’s tastes when it came to how he looked, or acted, or talked about something.

He would much rather keep his feelings to himself, would much rather lock them up in a safe to keep it in the corner of the basement, never letting it see the light again, hoping it would wither away and die.

But when Kuroo looks at him like that, like there was nobody else in the world he would rather be decorating a Christmas tree with, when looks like he was finding his way whenever their eyes met, it makes him want to spill his guts. 

He liked to think — okay, _hoped_ — that maybe Kuroo would feel the same. 

Like candle flame, his hope burned when Kuroo would go out of his way to learn about something Kenma was interested in, or take him out to grab food with him at random times, just because. It kindled when Kuroo would lie on his stomach and watch him play games on his PSP when he slept over because he was curious, or fell asleep on his lap when he was up doing homework and keeping him company, having no concept of personal space whenever he came over to his apartment.

And that was okay. Kenma didn’t mind it.

Especially now, when Kuroo was humming holiday songs and peeking at him through the slits in between the fake branches of the tree.

The flame burns and glows bronze against his ribs.

Kuroo made him feel all too much, yet he was still craving more when they were together, and he thinks that maybe one day, he should tell him.

He pictures it in some dramatic fashion, when they’re about to move to different countries with no chance of seeing each other again or something, and while he’s at the airport, tell him _hey, I’m in love with you, did you know that? See you never!_

But he knows he probably wouldn’t wait that long, and scratched that scenario out a long time ago. Oftentimes, he thinks he’d find himself on New Year’s with him, holding glasses full of champagne swallowing the brim and kissing their knuckles as it dripped onto the floor, the air different and light, and he’d say _Kuro, I think I love you. Like, love, love._

No, that was weird.

Maybe _Kuro, I’ve fallen in love with you. Please don’t think it’s weird. Is that weird?_

Kenma thinks he’s doomed to be stuck in his own head for the next eternity, entirely single at that. And the fact of the matter was that confrontation was never a tool in his arsenal, so he knew that no elaborate scheme would ever happen and he would just have to rely on the universe doing its thing, had they meant to be together.

But with that, there had to be some stray butterflies somewhere, right? Monarchs that escaped and sang to his chest whenever Kenma smiled at him, too.

_Right?_

He stops thinking so much when his own butterflies flutter up to his throat, nearly gagging on chalky wings as they leave colorful streaks all over his stomach.

He misses Kuroo when he leaves for the night, his giggles glowing within the fairy lights around his tree, and the ornaments tremble with the remnants of his voice from the day.

~❆~

“Kozume!” Bokuto was most excited to see Kenma when he opened the door for him and Kuroo, who was clutching the strap of his old black backpack from high school in his hand, his gifts for Kuroo in them. He hands him a huge mug of what Kenma assumed was mulled wine, the scent of the spices stinging his nose as the steam fans out into the air in front of him. “And Kuroo!”

He’d finally figured out exactly _what_ to get Kuroo after an entire day of thinking and calling Hinata all the way in friggin’ Brazil because he was so terrified of him hating his gift.

Well, gifts.

He got him several, all bustling around in this black Jansport he almost threw out when he graduated.

“H-hi, Bokuto.” Kenma’s smile wavers as he nods and looks at the floor, glad that the scarf around his neck hid his embarrassment, as the eyes from their friends bore holes into his skin behind Bokuto's shoulder. 

“Don’t you like his santa hat?” Kuroo asks Bokuto, throwing an arm over Kenma’s shoulders, and it makes the other seethe, cold fingers pressing against the puff in his jacket. 

He was forced to put this dumb thing on when Kuroo came over. It was so embarrassing.

“Yes. It really adds to your holiday spirit, Kozume!” 

And with that, Kenma wants to push Kuroo and run back home.

“Who are we waiting for?” Kuroo asks, stepping inside with Kenma trailing behind him, toeing off his shoes beside many pairs of boots and slippers.

He sips the mug and it spreads a heat that branches through his shoulders, beating the cold entirely.

“Just Yaku and Lev,” Bokuto tells them, his white hair fluffed against his forehead beneath a white beanie, his voice slightly rasped from the cold. It was warm in here, and the mug in his hand helped. “You could put your presents in the kitchen now, if you want to.”

Kenma nods, and tries not to make eye contact with anyone as he makes his way through their apartment, his nerves frayed like the ends of old satin ribbons at how this could go. Kuroo led him towards the kitchen through his already crowded living room, Kenma holding onto the back of Kuroo’s sweater as if he would get lost in here, before they stopped in front of the kitchen.

Kenma eyes the green plant hanging over the door frame, his heart falling into the abyss, thinking of the many dumpster fires that could have happened had they been careless.

“Go ahead, Kenma. I’ll be here.” Kuroo tells him, reassuringly, taking the mug from Kenma so he could use both of his hands had he needed it.

Kuroo knew it was there, and _also_ knew how Kenma felt about mistletoe, considering he was the one who urged Bokuto to put it up.

No reason, either. _Just because._

Kenma makes a point to pick a spot that was very much away from all the other presents, not looking at the names and labels and setting his own on the kitchen counter. He sets them in the corner, next to gifts for Akaashi.

He rushes out quickly, and Kuroo smiles at him once he turns around, reaching up with his free hand to gingerly fix the Santa hat he quite literally forced onto his head when going to pick him up from his apartment earlier. 

“Don’t worry.” Kenma looks to the ground and feels warmth trickle into his cheeks at the closeness, hoping Kuroo didn’t notice the strawberry glow that stained the tips of his ears, as he gently tugged the rim of the hat onto Kenma’s head, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his face. 

“Fine.” Kenma says, turning his face away from Kuroo once he let his hands fall at his side. “I won’t.”

Kuroo found it necessary to hold Kenma’s hand as he led him through the living room, seeing an empty spot on the sofa for them to sit, wanting to take it before anyone else noticed it, too. Kenma did not find it necessary, and in fact, his heart was racing a million miles per second, but he didn’t say anything.

He liked holding hands with Kuroo, especially when it wasn’t necessary.

“What are we gonna do after this?” Kuroo asks, bringing a leg up and balancing the mug on his knee as he waits for Kenma to answer, patient.

Kenma makes grabby hands at the mug as he thinks, sipping it again and watching the orange slice bouncing off of his lips, back into the drink.

“You wanna watch Christmas movies?” Kenma asks, that being one of his favorite pastimes because he didn’t have to talk, so he was kind of hoping Kuroo would say yes.

“Yes.”

_Sweet._

“And make hot chocolate.” Kenma says, and Kuroo nods, his eyebrows lifted high with a suggestion.

“With peppermint?”

Kenma makes a disgusted face and Kuroo gasps. “What do you _mean?”_

“If that’s what makes you happy, then I support you all the way, Kuro. Just count me out.” Kenma smiles, knowing he was being annoying, before Kuroo lightly pushes his shoulder.

He gives him the mug back.

“It’s an acquired taste, Kenma. Only those with a respectable flavor palette can appreciate such delicate yet stark textures that a peppermint produces.” Kuroo's voice sounds loopy as he brings his hand up and makes it do a little movement to emphasize his point, and Kenma would have believed him had he _not_ been his friend.

“So you would eat barf if it was stirred into hot chocolate? Because that’s exactly what peppermint tastes like. Barf.” Kenma nods, and Kuroo thinks that the white puff at the end of his hat made him look that much more endearing, especially when he was in Kuroo’s own oversized sweater (that he intentionally left there and remembered to forget about last Christmas, for exactly this moment).

Kuroo opens his mouth to retaliate, but Bokuto asks for everyone’s attention.

Akaashi speaks instead.

It was here when Kenma understood that talking was probably making Bokuto's throat hurt more, and he was most likely catching a cold from someone, the lower temperature outside not helping.

“Everyone put their gifts in the kitchen by now, so you should definitely go in and pick yours up.” Akaashi says, his voice impudent and soft, like the rift of currents the moon brings in at night.

Bokuto raises his eyebrows and looks to Kuroo for help, as he mouths to him _no turns!_ Kuroo somehow managed to understand what he was saying from across the room, despite Kenma having no idea what that meant.

“Oh! Uh…” Kuroo brings a hand up to press against the top of his head as his voice rings out against the silence of the living room, something he did when he was getting nervous, ever since they were kids. “We also thought it was best to not take turns, just in case. I know it could be kind of embarrassing, so open them before the night’s over. We asked everyone to leave their numbers in the note, so you can text them if you were to leave early or something.”

Kenma takes a breath in relief as Bokuto smiles and leaves for the kitchen, voices beginning to pool into the room again.

Thank god for _that_.

“Let’s open our presents!” Kuroo says to Kenma, once the area became full of murmurs and the sweet clangor of holiday music, the mug of mulled wine nearly empty. Albeit cheesy, Kenma always liked the holiday parties Kuroo brought him to every year. They were always really nice, and made a warm feeling settle in his tummy. 

Kenma gets up and leads Kuroo into the kitchen, careful to let himself go first so he wouldn’t be caught underneath that damned mistletoe, and it’s here when Kuroo notices the black bobby-pins stuck to the rim of his hat in the back.

“I thought you didn’t like the hat.” Kuroo says, holding onto Kenma’s gifts for him, while Kenma has a small box with the coolest iridescent wrapping paper Kuroo could find in the craft store. 

Kenma flushes at the spotlight on him, and Kuroo pretends he doesn’t see it, sitting on the kitchen floor with him, away from everyone so they didn’t bother anyone by being human traffic cones in the middle of his apartment.

“I do not.” Kenma grumbles, looking at his gift.

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“There are bobby-pins in it.” Kuroo smiles knowingly at him. “Meaning you didn’t wanna lose it. That means—”

“Well! These gifts aren’t gonna open themselves!” Kenma says loudly, smiling wide, but it was flaky and Kuroo raises his eyebrows, before looking down at the gift in Kenma’s lap, his heart suddenly jumping to his throat.

What if Kenma didn’t like the gift he got? He’s been thinking about getting him this for weeks after he saw it at the jeweler’s with Bokuto.

No, he would like it.

Would he?

“—so...Kuro? Are you listening?” Kenma tilts his head as he catches Kuroo zoning out again, wanting to know what he was thinking so intently about.

“Huh?”

“I said you should go first because you are older. The elderly have first pick.” Kenma says, trying not to smile as Kuroo deadpans at him.

“I’m going to assume that is just a way of you expressing your love for me, and open this gift.” 

“Right.” Kenma bites the inside of his lip, the air feeling less light and there is a heaviness that sits in his gut, a lump of coal igniting an uncomfortable heat in his bones that made him kind of wary.

He watches Kuroo carefully pull the crimson wrapping paper off of the first, smaller present, and he gasps lightly, an open-mouthed grin on his face that was almost comical, while Kenma looks at his socks rather than Kuroo.

“What the fuck! I really needed this!” Kuroo slides the covering off of the graphing calculator and runs his fingertips over the buttons, new and pretty as they take on the carmelized complexion of the fairy lights above them.

“They must know you well.” Kenma says, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yeah! This is awesome.” Kuroo sets it down next to him, before going to open the next gift, and Kenma is slightly relieved but also on the verge of having a stroke had Kuroo not liked this next one.

The cover of the entire Voynich Hotel manga peeks out at him from beneath the emerald wrapping, Kuroo’s eager fingers brushing over the gloss of the plastic it was encased in. Kenma spent _all day_ yesterday searching for the most obscure, unheard-of manga in the giant bookstore in Koshotengai, even going so far as asking an employee for help. 

Way too out of his comfort zone for some comics, doing dangerous things like that.

But for Kuroo, it was okay.

“What’s that?” Kenma asks softly, hoping Kuroo didn’t notice his voice walking on eggshells, trying to act surprised and interested in what he was looking at, despite knowing _exactly_ what he was looking at.

“Manga...I’ve never heard of it before.” Kuroo says, grinning as he turns the package over, taking in the line art on the backside. “Thanks, Kenma! These are such good gifts!”

“You’re wel–wait. It’s not me.” Kenma says quickly, not being able to make eye contact with Kuroo because he knew he was a terrible liar and this moment in time just proved that. He shakes his head, hoping Kuroo didn't hear that first part. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about. Plus, you didn’t even read the note. It’s not me.”

“Right.” Kuroo says, picking up the note that was taped to the inside of the wrapping paper for the manga, Kenma’s very obvious handwriting giving away clues that he thought were good enough for Kuroo to guess who got him these gifts. “Well, it’s either you or Bokuto, and I’ve never told anyone else about my interest in manga. Except for you, when we were, like, ten.”

“Everyone likes manga.” Kenma shrugs, his eyebrows gently coming together to emphasize his point.

“So how come I didn’t get a popular one, like One Piece or Tokyo Ghoul?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma swallows.

“Because, um...those are...overrated. And mainstream.” Kenma says, and Kuroo nods, almost proud. Kenma feels like a child at lessons.

“And mainstream stuff just doesn’t have any charm.” 

Kenma sighs heavily, his cheeks hot and he lets his head fall back, shutting his eyes because it was way too tiring to argue with Kuroo when he was very obviously losing the battle. 

“Fine. You’re welcome.” Kenma tells him, and he’s kind of glad Kuroo didn’t read the note he wrote because it was kind of cheesy, anyway. “I’m gonna open this one, now.”

“Wait!” Kuroo says, unfolding the note, the tape holding onto a bit of the wrapping paper from where he’d torn it. “I didn’t even read the note.”

Kenma wants to grab the note and rip it up, but he knew it would only make him more suspicious had he tried to. He shakes his head, feeling his embarrassment perch itself in his lap, suffocating. “You don’t have to.”

“Okay, now I have to.”

Kenma sighs and Kuroo lightly peels it from the wrapping paper, holding it up to his face, reading it as best as he could in the light.

_To Kuroo Tetsurou._

_This is your secret santa. I didn’t wanna make humdrum and vague clues for you, because those are lame. And I am not lame. But despite trying to find my way around them, I only came up with boring ones. So here are a few things that might help._

_1\. My hair is dyed. I remember when I got it done, and the guy who did it told me it might not be the best idea, because “bleach reacts with the pigment in your hair shafts, and it weakens the fatty acids in them, did you know that?”. And I **didn’t** know that, but I’m glad we still went through with it, because that was one of my favorite days I’ve ever spent with him, among many. _

_2\. My eyes are brown. Well, more hazel. I thought they were brown and dull until a certain someone told me they were the prettiest shade of gold he'd ever seen when the sun hit them, when I was about thirteen. It was right on my rooftop, when I was watching the sunset with him. We used to do it all the time, until stars replaced twilight, and our parents would get mad for hanging out with each other so late._

_3\. We are close. We’ve been best friends since we were kids, and I’m somehow always finding new pieces of you in whatever I see, even now. Right now, as I write this, I’m reminded of you in the tinsel around my apartment, or the star above the tree that’s set up. Small and missable things, yet, they make everything that much more beautiful once you notice them. It makes you feel lucky to be around them. That’s exactly like you._

_Anyway, I hope this helps. And I hope you like these gifts._

_\- From your secret santa._

Kuroo smooths his hair back with the hand that was not holding the note and sighs, a smile on his face. Kenma is begging for the earth to swallow him whole, right now.

“Kenma, I am gonna cry.”

Kenma shakes his head and covers his face with his hands, completely humiliated that he didn’t throw out that note like he should have. He thought putting in a little more effort into a gift for Kuroo this year would be a good idea, but with the way he put his heart on blast like that, he thinks he should have gone for a simpler route.

“You’re dumb.”

“I’m gonna put this in a frame. And hang it on my wall.” Kuroo says, and Kenma lightly pushes his shoulder, seeing his eyes had glossed over a little and he thinks that maybe it’s from the wine. 

“I’m gonna open this while you cry.” Kenma tells him, and he tries to ignore how Kuroo delicately folded the note in four, making it small enough to fit perfectly in pockets. 

He then imagines Kuroo carrying that stupid note around everywhere, unfolding it to read it whenever he had a break at university because it was something that he would _definitely_ do, and he would smile like an idiot at the memory.

Kenma feels his heart take a nose-dive off course, causing tremors in the earth below him that would land a 7.2 on the Richter Scale at that simple gesture.

_Jeez._

Kenma unwraps a black box from the iridescent paper, and sees the note in it, familiar. He’d get things like this for his mother all the time when he was younger. It was definitely some sort of necklace or chain.

Kenma hums in curiosity, hoping that his secret santa was someone he knew, so he would have an easier time thanking them for getting him something so nice. It would be weird if it was someone like Konoha or Fukunaga sitting on the loveseat in the living room.

Kenma lets his eyes fall over the note, and it was just as straightforward as he thought it would be.

_Kenma! \\(^-^)/_

_I have gotten you something that reminds me of you. That means that we know each other well. You should have an easy time guessing who I am! Right?_

Kenma’s eyebrows come together and he thinks.

If he was honest, his only friends here were Lev, Yaku, Kuroo, and Yamamoto. Out of all of them, he’s only spent excessive amounts of time with Kuroo and Yamamoto, maybe Lev if he was particularly bored and Yaku wasn’t around to entertain him. Yamamoto was not the mushy type, especially for presents, and would not have written this note. He expected he would have gotten a rock with googly eyes on it from Lev, again, with no note.

Besides, only one person made those little characters when writing notes, upon the many that he’d left for Kenma before a big test, or taped to the brown paper bag when bringing him lunch, or pinned to the bulletin board in his room before he went home for the day.

So this must be Kuroo.

“It’s you,” Kenma says, and Kuroo hums.

“Yes. I’m not even gonna pretend it’s not, because I know you came up with some complicated strategy and my brain cannot handle all that tonight.”

Kenma smiles and looks down at the box, hoping his hair was enough to hide the roses blossoming beneath his cheeks as he opens the box.

And there is a silver necklace inside, with a snowman pendant, sat atop a white sponge and surrounded in black velvet.

“This is pretty,” Kenma breathes out, eyes wide and curious as he holds it up by the chain, watching it twirl and spin back and forth in the fairy lights above them.

“Do you like it?”

Kenma nods, and quietly, he unfastens the hook, clipping it behind his neck and letting it fall against his chest. This was very Kuroo-like, to get him a snowman necklace simply because it reminded him of him.

Kuroo, on the other hand, loved how the necklace looked more when Kenma was wearing it.

“I know you don’t wear much jewelry, but…” Kuroo begins to get nervous, feeling like he was about to propose to him or something. And Kuroo often thought about how he would do it if he did, so he really shouldn’t be this scared, considering he’s come up with a million scenarios in his head before. “It just reminded me of you.”

“How so?” Kenma asks, and Kuroo was _really_ hoping that he didn’t ask that question because the answer was so embarrassing.

He sighs.

“B-because, um...well, you know how I really like the holidays?” Kuroo asks, trying to water it down. Kenma nods, silently urging him to keep going, and Kuroo taps his fingers on his sock-covered feet, wordlessly asking them to throw him a line, as if they would help him. “I’ve found that I like it more when it’s with you. Snowmen are kind of like a staple for winter. Really important for Christmas. And you’re really important to me and make Christmas a lot better than it should be. I like snowmen a lot, and I like you a lot, if that makes sense, and I just kind of figured—”

Kuroo’s voice is stuck in his throat as Kenma wraps his arms around it, a slight aroma of allspice surrounding him as he hugs him tightly, the silver necklace cold against Kuroo’s skin. They rarely hugged like this, as Kenma was very allergic to anything affectionate, but Kuroo knows it’s from appreciation and nothing more, so it wasn’t a big deal.

He didn’t think he should feel as bummed as he did, knowing that.

“Thank you. I love it very much.” Kenma tells him, and Kuroo smiles like an idiot because it was very hard not to with someone like Kozume Kenma, and he snakes his arms around his waist like green ivy to stone pillars, sinking into this warm feeling that has seeped into his bones. 

“I’m glad. I also like my gifts very much, too.” Kuroo looks at the floor. 

“I’m serious. This is wonderful.”

Kuroo smiles and props his chin on Kenma’s shoulder, and he could practically feel his heart exploding in his chest, Kenma’s voice like fuses to a bunch of fireworks, and it would splatter pretty colors all over the white walls of Bokuto’s kitchen.

“I know. You’re easy to read. I know you appreciate it. I’m happy.”

Kenma pulls back slightly to look at him, wanting to tell him that this was one of the best gifts he’s ever gotten but it felt that way with everything Kuroo had given him since their first Christmas together.

He wants to tell him that this silver necklace was yet another tiny thing he’d added to his list of reasons to fall in love with him.

He wants to tell him.

But instead, he is met with a grin of halos and starlight that wipes his memory clean, a blank slate for thinking of that same smile when he saw him again.

He watches it slowly fall, and Kuroo glances at his mouth once, before flicking his eyes across his own, cautious. Kenma pulls away from him completely once he feels they were a little too close for his heart to be okay with, standing up quickly, feeling himself nearly slip into cold water a few seconds ago.

“I say we go spend the rest of the night on my couch,” Kenma says, and Kuroo follows suit, trying to come down from his high, tossing the wrapping paper in the bin beneath the sink and placing the not empty mug in the dishwasher beside it.

“I think...I think that’s a good idea. We only have a few hours left before Christmas.” Kuroo says, picking up his calculator and manga from the floor, practically itching to read it all tomorrow.

He couldn’t believe it. Kenma was just that good.

“Will Bokuto be upset with you?” Kenma asks, and Kuroo shakes his head.

“Akaashi said he’d keep him company while I was gone.” Kuroo’s voice is cloudy and Kenma can’t read what he was thinking about as he drops his eyes to the floor, bringing his hand up to the top of his head.

“Ah, so you planned to stay with me.” Kenma smiles and nods, the white puff of the santa hat tapping the ends of his hair. “That’s kinda cute.” 

“You’re making me blush, Kenma,” Kuroo says it with a voice that tried to tell Kenma he was kidding, hoping it was enough to convince him. “Let’s go.” 

And the fact of the matter was that Kenma really _was_ making him blush, because he saw through his plan without him saying much. The two spent Christmas together practically every year, yet, tonight felt weird.

Different, almost.

Hm.

~❆~

Escaping the party with Kuroo was more fun than Kenma truly cared to admit.

Kind of like stepping onto Mars for the first time, or going on vacation. And it was their same, idle town, the streets and sidewalks still the same, but there was a different ring to the stars, higher pitches in the voices of the streetlamps as they called for them, begging for them to explore the city before the night waned.

Kenma and Kuroo didn’t want to search the city tonight, however. His apartment was more than enough.

And while he was practically running back home with him, rushing against the gradient of the nighttime with fingers lazily laced through his, as Kenma’s giggles soaked into the snow beneath them and blonde hair billowed against the wind, as the moon leaked ivory over flushed cheeks, Kuroo thinks Kenma was breathtaking when he was in the moment.

He thought Kenma was beautiful at night, and in the morning, and every twilight and dusk in between, but tonight, as his carefree radiance put stars to shame and made his heart collapse just as frequently, he thinks he is the most beautiful in times like this.

There’s a disturbance among his own butterflies when Kenma turns to look back at him, ankle deep in snow that fell heavily over the parking lot of his apartment complex, a genuine smile on his face as he gets an idea.

“Let’s make snowmen!”

Kuroo blinks. 

“Right now?” He asks, and Kenma nods cutely, strands of hair dancing over his lips from the light breeze that raked in between them.

And Kuroo could not say no to a face like that.

He finds himself balling up mounds of snow, working in what felt like silence. He still spoke sparsely, but Kenma was used to him taking up empty spaces in the atmosphere with his voice, maybe a stupid joke or a dorky fact about snow that he could never tire of, despite hearing them all the time. 

Kuroo was quieter in this instance.

Kenma wonders if he’s okay, or if he was too cold, or if he was thinking.

He _did_ look like he had something on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill from his lips had it been hooked.

He doesn’t say anything about it.

Kuroo places his own scarf around the snowman’s neck when it’s finished, looking very bland and boring without sticks and carrots and buttons, like the movies make them out to be. It was tiny, yet took a lot of work, just to look lopsided and bare.

Slightly out of breath from the surprising effort, Kenma stares at it, his body melting from the inside out, from both the party and Kuroo’s shoulder pressed against his own, despite the weather.

“It’s missing something,” Kuroo says, and Kenma giggles because it was missing nearly _everything._

“I think it just needs a hat,” Kenma tells him, ignoring the bare face and no arms. “Maybe a bow.”

“I think the scarf complements it.”

Kenma shakes his head. “Too orange.”

“Is not.” Kuroo pouts, and Kenma nods.

“Is too.”

“...Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Take that back right now.” Kuroo looks at Kenma and takes in how the moonlight kissed his cheeks, how light flurries of snow ran their fingers through his hair, speckling them like the fairy lights he’s come to love so quickly.

And Kuroo thought Kenma was perfect for fairy lights, dazzling diamonds complimenting him in a way that made him lose his breath the more he tried to catch it.

“Or what?” Kenma asks, and Kuroo hurriedly bends down to pack some snow in his hand, trying to take his mind off of things with this challenge, but Kenma is already running away, not sure what sparked him to do even _more_ physical exercise than he needed to.

Walking in the snow was hard enough, much less running _and_ dodging snowballs?

Kuroo Tetsurou would be the death of him.

“Face me head-on, Kenma!” 

Kenma barely misses the snowball Kuroo threw at him, and as he looks up at him while packing his own, he feels something bubble in his chest that makes his blood run warm. Another pang of familiarity hits him, reminding him of when they were kids, and he thinks Kuroo belonged among swingsets and blanket forts and the petunias in his mother’s garden and everything else that reminded him of home.

And in this vulnerable state, Kuroo lands a hit that explodes off of Kenma’s chest, small bits of snow nipping at his skin.

Kuroo laughs and it makes Kenma actually want to _try_ to get even, so he lobs his own at him.

He misses, of course, and makes a face.

_Goddammit, Kuro. Stay still._

“You’ve gotta be better than that,” Kuroo tells him, and Kenma pulls his lips into a tight line, looking up at him from where he stood.

He’s exhausted, the desire to win diminishing as quickly as it sprouted.

“You’re killing me, Kuro. Will you ever let me win?”

Kuroo shakes his head and smiles, holding out his hand for Kenma to take. “No way.”

Kenma lets Kuroo pull him out of the snow, his hand still in Kuroo’s as they reach his apartment. Kenma almost doesn’t want to go in, to leave the nighttime to itself when it had been full of opportunity and change, had they stayed out here long enough.

Kuroo escapes to the kitchen to start making the hot chocolate, while Kenma goes into his bedroom to change into warm pajamas, tying his hair back and flicking through his closet for Kuroo’s own clothes from all the times he’d come here.

There are a navy hoodie and fuzzy pajama pants that he always thought Kuroo looked nice in during the winter in his hands, leaving them on the bed for him for when he was finished in the kitchen.

And he had been right, his heart kind of skipping as Kuroo emerged from his bedroom in those same clothes, hair messy and wild and there is what seemed to be a permanent cherry blossom stain at the tip of his nose from the cold, meeting him on the couch to watch the movie Kenma had picked while the hot chocolate cooled.

He was absentmindedly playing with the snowman charm around his neck as he pointed the remote towards the television with his other hand, and it made Kuroo want to brag to everyone about how Kenma liked his gift, made him want to run down the street and open windows just for him to shout that _Kozume Kenma likes his gift!_

It wasn’t a big deal, but it meant almost everything to Kuroo that Kenma was wearing a piece of his heart around his neck, careful not to ignore it.

And that makes him question his heart for the nth time tonight.

“Kuro? Are you okay?” Kenma asks, sitting up a little to give him his attention, noticing he’d been staring at him. “You seem kinda off. Since the party.”

Kuroo blinks, wondering if he truly was that transparent. He _had_ been thinking, yes. But it wasn’t something that could be solved as easily as it should be.

The gift exchange made him realize some things that he wanted to get out, but also keep to himself. And he understood why Kenma liked to do so, too. It was a lot easier than facing things that made you uncomfortable, especially when his eyes were foglights and put him on the spot like this.

He sighs.

“It’s just that…” Kuroo swallows, dry like a fish out of water, his heart deafening as it trills in his ears, fighting with his head to just do it.

Should he? What if it ruined everything? What if Kenma resented him after this? He’s seen way too many movies with horror stories that started out just like this and he doesn’t know if he was willing to let them become realities the more he thought about it.

“Kuro. I’m here for you.” Kenma says, his voice soft. “What’s going on?”

Kuroo sighs again, as if it would alleviate the pressure in his chest, and looks at the tinsel above them, hoping for a boost in confidence. He thinks it's strange how Kenma can break him down into pixels and antimatter, just by looking at him, without knowing what was going on.

“I think I really need to talk to you.”

Kenma’s eyebrows worry in the middle of his forehead, and he sits up straight, facing Kuroo on the couch. The other meets him there, glancing at him, before staring down at his hands in his lap. Kenma was quickly becoming afraid of what Kuroo might say, expecting nothing and everything all the same. Kuroo almost never looked anxious.

This was weird.

“What’s wrong?” Kenma asks, worried for him. He tries to interpret his expression into something malleable, but it was unreadable, as if he was behind violet tinted glass.

“Um...at the party…” Kuroo is so nervous it makes him sick. He only feels this way when giving presentations in front of his classes, or when he’s on rollercoasters and it reaches the peak, before the drop.

He was falling, definitely. He just didn’t know how to land, now that there was nowhere to run anymore.

“At the party, I kind of…” Kuroo stares at the couch cushions, trying to organize his messy thoughts in the fabric that covered them.

“You kind of…” 

Kuroo looks at him, finally. “Realized something.”

He thinks back to when they were kids, how he would always go out of his way to be with Kenma, even when the other didn’t ask for it. In middle school, how he would ditch his friends to go see him, or leave parties early, or invite him almost everywhere he went, just because. Even in high school, he would seek Kenma out before a big game or test, just to listen to his voice, because he always knew how to ground him.

Even now, as he is about to give the rest of his heart out to him, he’s okay.

And he would let Kenma destroy it, ruin him if it came down to it, and he would still be okay.

He found himself vulnerable more often than not, found whatever defenses he’d put up for someone else completely destroyed whenever he was on the roof with him, or sitting on his couch, or watching him play video games in his bed.

He always thought of Kenma as a part of him, since they were kids. And it was weird to picture him ever leaving him.

He thinks that would hurt the worst out of anything.

So he waters it down, his years of basking in oblivious bliss, all centered around one person whom he would rather be with until forever was over.

“I think...I am in love with you.”

Kenma is quiet, and Kuroo could practically feel his heart drumming against his chest, knowing Kenma wasn’t good with stuff like this. He was fearful that he would scare him away, but at the same time, knew this would be one of his biggest regrets had he kept it to himself.

Kenma brings a hand up to his face, hiding his cheeks behind the back of it as he swallows.

“Really?” Kenma asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kuroo nods, looking up and making eye contact with him, his face hot and his eyes brazen.

“Yeah. Yeah. Really.”

Kenma stares at his face for any kind of banter that would have been lost had the lines not been crossed, but there is none. He searches for _something,_ any sign that would tell him that maybe he was dreaming or imagining it. There was no way someone like Kuroo could truly love someone like him.

There was no way.

“When did you know?” Kenma asks, and Kuroo bites the inside of his bottom lip, looking at the ceiling for answers, feeling strange that he was opening up so easily like this.

“I’m not sure.”

And he found it effortless to tell Kenma everything he was feeling, to be so transparent that Kenma could probably know before he did, but still.

“Hm.” Kenma leans back on his hands, smiling to himself as he looks at the ceiling, shutting his eyes. “Me neither.”

_“What?”_

“I also don’t know when I started to fall in love with you. Probably on my roof sometime.” Kenma tells him, and Kuroo leans forward, staring into his neck.

“Kenma, I’m gonna cry. Why didn’t you tell me?” Kuroo asks, and Kenma opens his eyes to blink at him, his eyebrows coming together and the incredulous look on his face makes him feel better.

“Why didn’t you tell _me?”_

Kuroo sighs into the air. “Feelings are fatal. I could feel the cortisol weighing my brain down.”

Kenma smiles, feeling a little strange now that things seemed to work out a little _too_ good, but he wasn’t going to question it. Just the universe doing its thing.

“Hey, seriously,” Kuroo tells him, a light carmine sifted onto his cheeks, and Kenma thinks his chest would burst with how full it felt, riding on the highs the night brought. “I’m sorry this was so sudden. I just didn’t wanna ruin anything, you know? I wasn’t kidding when I said you mean a lot to me. Like, you’re super important. And I didn’t wanna mess anything up. And—”

Kuroo finds himself cut off yet again tonight, soft lips on his own rather than his arms around his neck. He preferred this almost as much, he thinks.

As Kenma kisses him, as his fingers wept heat into his skin from where they held onto his face, he feels of civil twilight, a dusk that sweeps the city and prepares it to start another day once the sun rises. 

And Kuroo too, felt like he could start again, being in the right circumstances with the right person. 

He liked to think of Kenma like the Belt of Venus, a pretty pink gradient with a navy center that sits exactly 10 degrees above the eastern horizon. He was alluring and transparent, except in moments like this, when he was shrouded in navies and Kuroo couldn’t tell exactly what he was pouring into him as he kissed him on his couch on Christmas Eve. But even then, Kuroo thinks his mysteries were just as beautiful as the parts he let him see. 

And as Kenma lays sunsets across his lips, as he fills his head with darkening skies and clouds of beryl, as the city sleeps and Kuroo feels his heart rise for the millionth time within Kenma’s disposition, he feels like he would fall for him 10 times over again if he could, on another day, in another lifetime.

~❆~

It’s Christmas morning.

Kuroo had woken up a little earlier than Kenma did, and despite Kenma thinking that Kuroo had left him when he woke up, he was more than excited to find him bringing him breakfast, leftover hot chocolate in a mug as marshmallows floated on the surface.

And he knew Kuroo would do something like this, because it was _him,_ but still. Gestures like that never failed to make his heart sprout wings and soar into the stratosphere, knowing that it was Kuroo who was doing it.

And it was stupid, but Kuroo loved to do it a lot, anyway.

And now, as the mug is empty and Kenma was explaining his plans for the new year to Kuroo, as he sits on his hips and Kuroo plays with his fingers, as the silver necklace balances delicately in the air from where it hung from Kenma’s neck and brings a tender intimacy to his bedroom, he thinks he loved Kenma just as much, if not, more.

He had gotten lost in him already, the morning barely waning as his laugh chimes among white bedsheets and blinking fairy lights. He listens as Kenma’s voice drips over his words, pretty like silver bells as it dances in the air, bouncing off the walls of their little bubble. 

He looked almost ethereal, wrapped in the white porcelain sunlight that hummed through his window behind him, dressing him in silvers and golds and stars.

He didn’t deserve him.

Kenma blinks at Kuroo, and Kuroo is pulled back into his environment once he doesn’t hear his voice anymore.

“Kuro?” Kenma asks, gently squeezing Kuroo’s hand in his for emphasis as he looks down at him, warmth in his palm. “Are you listening?”

His cheeks were still a little puffy from the morning, like peaches. Kenma wanted to poke them.

Kuroo nods. “Yes.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“What are you thinking about?” Kenma asks, knowing Kuroo well enough to recognize that look he had before, as if he had strayed. 

“It’s nothing.” Kuroo moves his hands back and forth, Kenma’s arms moving slightly with them, their fingers still laced, still whole, still real.

“I wanna know. Tell me your thoughts.” Kenma smiles, genuine, and Kuroo almost finds it evil to deny him, even though what he would say would probably make Kenma dive for the blankets to cover himself from his embarrassment.

“Well.” There was no point in turning back now (and maybe Kuroo wanted to see Kenma blush again, because it was just that sweet and he loved it more than anything). “I was just…” Kuroo breathes out a smile as he looks into Kenma, something so distinct on his face but he doesn’t know what to make of it. “I’m so lucky I get to love someone like you.”

Kenma hangs his head as a blush seeps into his cheeks, carnations smeared under his skin and he feels too hot to really be in this sweater, fireflies of flattery and fondness amongst his butterflies. Kuroo always knew what to say to make him run on the clouds above them, despite it being too early to feel like this.

Always.

And he wants to deflect, to wither away because his heart was racing, but he looks back up, deciding that it was okay, _just this once,_ to be just as cheesy as Kuroo had been. Heartfelt comments were never his strong suit, but Kuroo made it impossible to hide it.

“I am so in love with you, Tetsurou.” He brings up a hand to press against Kuroo’s cheek, letting his thumb gently drag across his skin. “Don’t ever change, okay?”

“Okay, angel.” He smiles and gently takes Kenma’s hand in his own, pressing his lips to his palm as if he was made of porcelain. “I won’t.”

Falling in love was a lot like opening Christmas presents.

It was the anticipation, the surprise, the joy, the happiness, that came hidden behind something that you’d never expect. It was waiting for something new to happen, or admiring the outside before diving past thin boundaries. It often came with a bow on top.

And Kenma thinks Kuroo was not very far from a gift, anyway. 

You learn to fall in love with the way someone looks at you, or how their lips meet mugs of peppermint hot chocolate, or the wrinkle in the middle of their forehead when you tell them you didn’t decorate for Christmas for the thousandth year in a row.

You learn to love the drop.

Falling in love was a lot like opening up the safe in the basement, letting white doves out while a fanfare plays, big and perfect and chaotic, finally letting everything out, letting it see the light and trying not to let it wither.

Kenma was never really into Christmas, to begin with. He was never into cold weather, snowed-in days, numb fingertips, gift-giving, any of that. But Kuroo had often turned his beliefs on their heads since they were little, and this had been no exception.

He found that there were many things to love about that holiday, starting with the little things. 

He was starting to love how fairy lights looked as they hugged Christmas trees, and how beautiful bare branches were, decorated in white feather boas of snow. He loved the taste of the hot chocolate that was made in his kitchen, and the snowmen cookies cooling in his fridge. 

He especially loved how Kuroo would always bring warmth to him, despite the cold weather, when he would smile like fireplaces or look at him with love behind his eyes, benign and cradling like how the tide reaches for the moon, arms open and waiting. 

He found it strange how someone could love him so much, but when he picked himself apart and pieced together puzzles from his thoughts, he realized he’d been doing the same, all this time.

And Kozume Kenma still _could_ write a ten-page, double-spaced, Times New Roman 12 point font essay on Christmas, but he thinks that maybe, he would have a change in thesis.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE the beginning isn't really how i feel ab christmas or the mangas it was just for fic purposes ;-;
> 
> thank you for reading! please leave a message/kudos if you liked this! if you didn't, that's okay too! my twt is @kaashihq and my cc is in my profile, just in case u wanna be friends! 
> 
> don't forget to check on your friends and drink some water, and merry christmas if you celebrate! see you soon!!
> 
> p.s. if you'd like to read my other stuff, i have a [kuroken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007192/chapters/65927596) and a [bokuaka](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27272104) au published, if you wanna check them out!


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